I nearly went to a funeral today but instead, got piles from sitting on a wet crash barrier on the M25 waiting for the AA. I’ve never had a Brazilian under my bonnet before but this one was very thorough and had a lovely side parting to boot. Having fiddled around for half an hour, he suggested we decamp to the nearest petrol station where he would test my pressure. At the garage, while Mr Brazil did some more fiddling, I got chatted up by the cashier, Mr Bangladesh, who swore he knew me from somewhere and wondered did I want to go and share a lunchtime bagel in Reigate. I declined. It’s funny because I have a history of attracting petrol pump attendants. Only last week, the man in the BP garage at the top of the road said he liked my stomach and I’d only gone in for a pint of milk. Anyway, eventually, Mr Brazil admitted defeat and towed me back home. Later on, I went out to the garden to get a carrot and trod in a big pile of dog dirt.